


Strange Country

by Whippoorwill_Grey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Age Difference, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Blood, Consensual Underage Sex, Cussing, Dark Reylo, Demon Kylo, Demon/Human Relationships, Demonic Possession, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Kylo Ren is a Mess, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Smut, Underage - Freeform, Underage Rey, Underage Sex, Violence, Virgin Ben Solo, What am I doing, Young Ben Solo, im really bad at tags, kylo is hundreds of years old, weird beetlejuice au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whippoorwill_Grey/pseuds/Whippoorwill_Grey
Summary: After drowning, Rey finds herself in purgatory only to make a deal with a demon, which turns out to be more than she bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing? *Nervous laughter*
> 
> No beta, so I hope you guys are ready.

She's all knobby knees and bloody knuckles, as she walks into the room. Eyes bloodshot, even from afar, and looks more like a wet cat than a tiny kid. 

He eyes her like he's never seen a woman child before, let alone one that looks so alive. So human, in fact, that it makes the dust in his chest flutter.

She stands there, dripping onto the white linoleum, dressed in an over sized black hoodie that hangs to her bruised knees. A drown victim, still fresh and probably still on the line. She could be saved still, pretty rare, and by glancing at her he could bet that shes on life support. He could bet double to say that she's given up on living, and that's why shes walking on In like a little present. Just. For. Him.

He rumbles softly, pulling at the cigarette in his fingertips, and decides he'd better get ahold of her before she loses the last of the light left. Quickly, without thinking, he grabs the man in the left seat next to him and shoves him from his seat. "Stay in that seat and i'll make your afterlife a living hell." He growls under his breath, and then runs a hand through the mop of hair on his head. 

She takes a step, glancing around at all of the nobodies waiting for their number to get called. They've been waiting for a long time, he knows because _he's _been waiting a long time. But he knows what goes on when the number gets called, he knows one goes back to the back rooms to get filed in and assigned the afterlife meant for them.

He's done it plenty of times, and frankly after the last time he just doesn't want to do it any more. But that's another story, one for a different day, one he doesn't have time for as he leans forward in his seat.

She takes two steps before he whistles softly, clicking at her like shes a fucking dog, but its not like he can help it. She's so close to losing the last bit of light she has, and he cant go and have her risking it by accepting the slip from the receptionist.

She'd just be a number then, no no- he needs her to be a girl. A lifeline.

It takes her record time to face him, and for a moment it passes through him that he should probably offer a smile or something. Look a little more friendly. The muscles in his face twitch into something that probably looks nothing like a smile. 

"Hey kid, come over here." He waves, patting the seat next to him like it's the best damn thing in the room. And it is, he's the only other one that gives a damn about appearance in the afterlife, so he's probably the most normal looking person she can turn to right now. Everyone else in the room looks dead, and who wouldn't wanna sit by the friendly neighborhood -decades old- demon?

She begins walking towards him, hesitantly, but it's enough for him to shiver with anticipation.

Her face is so tiny, and the closer she gets the more young she looks. Like one of those people that look younger than their years. "What's a girl like you doing up in a place like this?" He eyes her, leaning back in his seat, and watches as she hesitantly sits down. 

She's definitely a drown victim, her hair is all matted on top of her head and hanging around her face in clumps. "Wh-where am I?" She eye's him curiously while he just watches her through the smoke of his cigarette.

"You're in hell." He can feel a low rumble in his chest, something like a laugh, but he stifles it with a grin; and eyes the man on the other side of her to keep his mouth shut. 

Her face goes slack with curiosity, and then she's blinking quickly. "I'm dead? This- what is thi-"

"You're not dead sweetie, not like these freaks in here." He waves his hand in the air, and sucks on the cancer stick before eyeing the receptionist across the room "But you will be if you take another step towards that desk."

"But- what." She begins, and he knows shes confused. Hell it would even be cute if he wasn't impatient. 

"You've got a choice here, a very important one. Now. Listen to me, and listen to me closely." He knows he has her attention by the way she is eyeing him, and it's been so long since anyone's ever paid this much attention to him. He's never this open, never talks this much, but he's gotta do what he's gotta do. "If you stay here, you get stuck with a slip. The very slip, with a very ridiculous number, and you will have to sit in this room for centuries- yes centuries- and the moment you get called. You will be led to the back and assigned a job that suits your afterlife. And it looks to me, you haven't even lived long enough yet to really get labeled good or bad. But what do I know?" He shrugs, leg shaking anxiously as he outs the cigarette against the underside of his seat. She's quiet, he likes it, and he turns back to her and puts on a shit eating grin.

"Or you can make a deal with me, get back to your life upstairs, and all will be good as new."

"But how do I know that you're telling the truth? That I'm not just dreaming? That you're not some devil or somethin'" Her lips tighten into a line and her bloodshot eyes blink at him nervously. She's starting to lose her tan the longer she sits there, and he can practically feel his time ticking away.

"Listen I'm not a devil or whatever." Actually, about that. "and this is as real as it gets, here." Just by flicking his right wrist, a knife dislodges itself from it's host across the room and flies right into his hand. Singing as it clips through muscle and bone. He pulls it out, not bothering to watch his skin stitch itself back up, and grabs her hand. Apart of him wants to stick her with it just to see her blood. Its been so long since he's seen live blood. The hand holding the knife trembles.

"Make the deal, and I promise you. That this is as real as it gets, that I'm as real as it gets." She's trying to pull her hand away, but he just grasps it harder. It's not hurting her, but it's got her all giddy like he is. Well, _he's_ giddy- she's just uncomfortable. 

"What's the deal?" Her breath is coming quickly, too quickly, and the shine in her eyes is slowly flickering in and out. 

"Bring me with you, and- and" Shit, shit, shit. What can he do? He didn't think this far. "I'll be your slave, or whatever."

She eyes him, weary. "I'm just dreaming...aren't I? I'm going to just wake up and this will all be a weird lucid dream." She's blabbering and he feels like he's choking, and he doesn't even need to fucking breath.

"If you're dreaming, then what do you have to lose?" The knife glints off of the bright lights of the room, and she gulps. Because how can a kid think drowning is a fucking dream? 

Shes in denial, he can see it on her face. Her eyes are dark, too dilated and alive. They burn into him. 

"Fine. I.. accept your weird offer or whatever."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo meet Ben, Ben meet Kylo. 
> 
> And let the games begin.

A soft hum radiates through him as he begins to materialize; bones popping, muscles twitching as if they've been ran over by a train. It's what shes feeling, and he groans with both exhilaration and agony. His hands flex, knuckles cracking loudly, and he grins through the pain. It's been so long since he's felt like this, even longer since he's been _free_.

Like a good little patient, he sits, waiting for everything to piece together; _more_ thankful that the bargain with the kid was just to help him get to the top. It was a good deal, the best deal, a grand fine scrumptious deal.

The last guy: Crowley? Whatever fucking name it was. Worst mistake ever. The guy had a bug up his ass, made sure to chain him up to a bargain so he had to live his days in boredom. It had been nice at first, new, but it had gotten painfully old- very quickly. Now though, now, he had a ticket to freedom. He could fuck right out of here without as much as a look over his shoulder. After all, she didnt tell him to stay, she had just agreed to letting him free. Right-o.

The hone of the lights drill through his head, making his ears pop loudly. He leans to the right; head cocked enough to let some blood pitter patter on the armchair of the seat he sits perched on. Good, everythings working, all jolly rigged up and ready for the world. 

He's alive for a second before he sinks back into being nothing but vacant and hollow.

"She's not doing good, her vitals aren't getting any better." A murmur hazily throbs through the air as Kylo blinks back the haziness in his eyes, and watches as the doctor comes into focus. "Have you reached her father? Any guardian of sorts?"

"I'm afraid not." The nurse responds, eyeing the bed with a look of concern. Her eyes glassy under the painfully bright lights.

Quickly, more shocked that he hadn't done it sooner, Kylo casually strolls from the chair and begins walking to the door. Not even bothering to glance to the bed, he couldn't, shes okay. The kid was okay, she was going to make it, and she'd forget her little bargain and she'll grow up and get old and have kids. Be normal. She'll live a long time, which means he can live a long time- hopefully, maybe.

She is his lifeline after all, and that red string of fate was awfully tricky sometimes. 

But she is alive, she had to be, he was here on top. In the mortal world, staring at a very mortal ass through the ridiculous blue scrubs on the nurse. Hes a new man on a mission, needs to go and make a few changes with the world, go and cause a little hell like the old times.

He walks through the door, feeling the hardwood pass through him, and quickly rounds the corner. Whistling loudly in the hallway, enjoying the way it echoes along with the way his shoes scuff the linoleum.

Kylo oogles a few elderly that sit outside of their room in wheelchairs. They gawk because they can see him, sputtering to themselves, and he cant contain the smile that burns his face. Babies and old people, (animals too, but what cant they see?) are more susceptible to see the dead. He doesnt know why or how it works, but he knows what he looks like to them. Three piece suit: tailored and dark as pitch, the only color staining his aura being the red soles of his shoes. He passes them, hand lazily caressing the air near their faces, and watches with too much satisfaction as they jerk back within their seats. To them, he is the _Devil._

Its been a long time, and he's missed it.

He no longer worries about taking his time as he saunters through the bright lights of the hallway, he could just disappear and go wherever he pleases but he doesnt. He's not alive, hell he's more of a ghost than anything, but he tells himself to savor it all as he passes on by. Its just the walls. The painful white walls that look eerily similar to the waiting room down stairs, and he needs to see green or something before he loses his mind. He's been patient after all, what more does he have to do?

Agitation rolls through his gut along with the subtle ache of his host, but that will always be there. The thrum of blood and alive-ness will hum at the back of his mind, it's a bond that he'd be better off without, but it's nice to have some resemblance to life after so many years. Even if he's dead, even if the only person that knows of his existence is the broken girl. But its not like hes going to hold her hand or kiss her ass. Just because you can do something, doesnt me-

He rounds the last corner and sees the front doors, and almost breaks down like a little girl when he sees the flimsy tree out front. It's scrawny, and the leaves are beginning to change from a beautiful green to a vermillion; it makes him fumble for the door quicker than necessary. It's actually quite embarrassing, but it's not like anyone's here to see. 

He gets through the first set of doors, and reaches out to grasp the handle of the second door when the air fizzes around him.

A loud pop, and his bones sing painfully. There is so much feeling that's-not-even-his, but whats worse is that he's no longer in the lobby. The precious lobby, with the sad little tree out front. 

No, he's standing at the end of _her _hospital bed. 

Shit fuck.

"What?" He growls to himself, loudly. Hoping-no- praying that she will hear, and wake up and tell him to leave. This was a misunderstanding, this had to be. "We made a deal, you agreed, you didn't tell me what you wanted from me and-" His voice trails off and a whine wheezes from his throat. He needs a cigarette. 

_"I'll accept your weird offer or whatever."_ Her voice echoes in his mind as he rolls his tongue in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides.

'What did you say ole boy?' He asks himself, index fingers tapping against his thumbs as the mind processes, gurgling and fighting, because usually he tries to forget anything that happens after five minutes. There is no use, the past is dead- gone. Why be there when you could be here? 

_"Bring me with you and-and I'll be your slave, or whatever."_ It finally conjures up evidence, and it's enough to make him hiss. Stupid, stupid, _stupid. _How could- what coul- but why?! She didnt even- but how could- 

The monitor beeps to his right and he eye's the girl on the bed, and admits to himself that she looks pretty damn awful. Tan skin waxen and pale, eyes sunken in and bruised on both sides, her face is swollen in places and he cringes from her; at first, before an unfamiliar feeling sets in. Was it even the same kid? Yes...damn it.

He walks around the corner of the bed and sits down on the left side of her, carefully watching her face for any sign of consciousness. She chose life, but maybe it was too late? 

His throat is suddenly dry, although it's just a phantom feeling because he's just feeding off of her life line. And it occurs to him that maybe he's not helping, she's not strong enough to be able to produce enough energy to support him, and something about that makes him twitch nervously. He definitely needs a smoke, and pats his jacket for the carton, only to find the carton empty.

Well, _shit_. 

"Hey, wake up. Come on now, you made me a deal-" Hes nervous now, because the longer he stares the more it dawns on him that she's not functioning properly. She's all quiet and still; dead people shit. No, no, no.

He reaches forward and takes her small left hand in his. It's so tiny, that he sits staring at it, running his fingers over the purple bruises on her knuckles. Feeling his way across the tiny cuts and the knobby joints. Then stills, because her nails are broken and cracked, and there's blood underneath her nails. And suddenly there is more to sleeping beauty.

_ A strangled crying sound claws its way through the music blaring in her room, the music is so loud, and its there to ignore what's going on behind the door. _

_The crying makes her turn it down, but only a fraction. _

_"Stupid bitch! How much for the kid huh? Im not paying until I get my piece, and Im not fucking your nasty ass." The voice grounds out, rattling through the confines of the living room, making her empty stomach clench with anxiousness. _

_Its not the first time the clients want a piece, and its definitely not going to be a first time she's had to run away to avoid the situation. Thats why the bedroom door stays locked, thats why she turns up the music and begins packing a night bag. Because its beginning to look like the fire escape is the best route for sleep for the night. Just in case. _

_Just incase if the lock fails, and it does. It does because thats her luck. _

He tugs free of her grasp and inhales sharply, only seeing the remaining images of what had progressed. Of the girl sleeping behind a dirty dumpster a few blocks away.

He knows the rest, and feels it in the back of his throat like venom. Why did he have to go and pry again? 

The images swarm, bubbling through his mind to be processed. 

He wants to find her, the mother, the monster.

"_Im so sorry baby, i'm so sorry._" Her voice echoes in the memory.

How could someone do that? Take their daughter from school only to lock her up in a car; and drive it off into the nearest body of water? What was the end goal?

The visions are not as clear as they would be if he were to pry for longer, but he doesn't. He doesnt want to go back into the girl's head. Doesnt care to, all that matters is shes with him now, but thats only if she lives long enough to be able to wake up again. And she _has_ to wake up again. 

Which is no wonder that she wanted to walk up in the office with a death wish, and wanted to pretend it had all been a fucked up nightmare. Because from all he could tell, and he really didn't want to tell, was the scrawny thing had nothing but the short end of the stick when it came to life's pleasures. 

He huffs, feeling too emotional for his own good. He's not meant for emotions, and sets her hand back to its place by her side. It occurs to him that its the first time he's felt the warm touch of another in decades. Well, semi-warm. Warmer than his own dead fingertips. 

The rattling of the door behind him jerks him from the bed, he feels like he just got caught looking at a dirty skin mag, and laughs loudly at the absurdity of it. Knowing damn well no one can see him other than the host. Not now anyways, not until he can get her healthy enough to strengthen the bond up. 

He blinks slowly, watching the older woman check in on the girl with a worried expression. The rusty cog of a brain flickers dimly in the root of his skull. He knows what he has to do. 

Glaring at an unconscious girl wasn't his forte anyways.

It feels, what's the word, peculiar? Strange? Completely mind numbing? He drifts along feeling the fabric of the scrubs brush against the skin of the woman's legs. 

Slipping in was easy breezy, but its hard to maintain a possession when it happens that the only source of energy is from a host in fucking _comatose_. 

So time ticks, and the nurse is in such good shape for her age that the thought of rubbing one out in the bathroom crosses his mind. Its been so long, but hes not that desperate. Not right now anyways.

A coworker passes and offers a soft smile, and he wants to have _fun_ but hes stuck _worrying_.

Three wrong doors later, and the medicine cabinet comes into view. Its shiny, and really nice. He doesnt even bother looking at the labels as he begins going through, quickly knocking back a few pills from here and there. 

What? Its not like he can wake the girl up, so it might as well just be easier getting really fucking high and waiting it out. That and drugs are good, good, good- fantabulous. 

They haven't started to kick in about five minutes of standing there, but whatever. The worst thing that could happen is the ole girl could die. 

It becomes so painfully obvious that hes just a leech the longer he grasps onto the nurse's body, because the trickling sensation of being hit by a truck is beginning to fade to the background. The drugs havent hit, and he slinks out of the door.

Back to subconsciously following the string back to his person. He feels like a dog on a leash and works the vocal chords of the woman into a low growl as a coworker walks by. 

There is a commotion in the room across from the kid's, and he wills the nurse's body to investigate. Wishing somehow the drugs could have impacted him more, and not just the functioning of the body. The legs wobble, and the vision is getting hazy. 

Worthless, he just had to go and break his new toy, because the drugs hit so suddenly that the woman just drops to the linoleum. She'll be fine. 

Things clear up as he breaks free of the possession and appears within the room of the commotion. There are nurses everywhere, and hes so bored that this is actually somewhat interesting. 

There is a woman down the hallway screaming a name, and he can barely make it out. He watches from the corner of his eye as a few people rush to the nurse's side to help.

He ignores it and rather focuses on the screaming lady. Its nice, it reminds him of old times as he watches a group of bigger guy nurses move a boy from a stretcher and onto the hospital bed. Hes a big kid, shaking so violently that its obvious its an overdose; with the foam and blood on his lips. He wasnt a goner _yet, _and hadnt even stopped twitching like some overdoses ensue.

But Kylo has seen plenty of overdose victims, and hes lived plenty to know that it fucking sucks.

He cant help but move a little closer to look at the face.

Why does he even care? Whats the point in all of this?

But its something about the way the boy looks that hits a little too close to home. The pale flesh scattered with scars, the dark crescents under his eyes, or maybe the mop of hair on his head all tangled and sweaty. Its like looking at a younger version of himself before he became...

Theres a curse from one of the men in the room, its the same doctor from the room over. It breaks Kylo from whatever odd little trance his brain concocted, and it settles him in on an vaguely stupid idea.

The boy looks like he could be a goner, or weak enough to be a new attachment. Maybe, hopefully.

He couldn't replace the kid next door, _but_ the boy could be of good use. For now. Long enough to get her back up and running. Long enough for him to sap a little energy, and create a little hell.

It wouldnt be too much of a problem, no harm done. Kylo watchs as the nurses work hard, shoving tubes and needles and all kinds of shit into the flesh of man child. Pumping him clean of the toxins, prepping him for a new one. 

It wouldnt be a problem. Just something new, besides what could go wrong? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welly welly well then. Next chapter will begin the charades. 
> 
> I really dont know what im doing, but Ive got an idea.
> 
> Im SO thankful for you guys. THANKYOUSOMUCH for kudos and comments!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya.

Something warm encases her left hand, its soft and it brings life to her numb cold fingers. It takes more than enough effort, to open her eyes against the splitting pain in her skull, and the darkness that feels a little too good.

The last thing she remembers is hitting the car window over and over again, to break free, as the car filled up with water. It eats at her, as she blinks at the bright burning lights, and focuses on a blurry form next to the bed. 

Its a teenager, a kid she's seen around the corner at school, and he sits there in a flimsy hospital gown with his own network of wires and tubes hanging from him. He is bleeding down his arms in tiny rivulets from having unhinged himself from the needles. 

"Wake up sleepy head." His voice is deep, soothing if it werent purely surprising. Shes too tired to react, and feels like shes about to go back to sleep when his large hand squeezes her aching fingers. "Remember the deal, sweetie?" 

She blinks slowly, confused, and feels like her brain has been scrambled. Shes never talked to this boy in her life; but he is familiar. A few seconds of staring, it clicks. He's a boy from school, a loner kid like her, always managing to stay silent and out of the way. 

"You dont remember?" His face, pale and more bruised than she remembers, falters. Its so painfully real that her fingertips twitch in his grip. He sighs loudly, releasing her hand to run his fingers through shoulder length hair. Its so dark in contrast to the pale cream color skin, and she watches the action a little too closely. "Listen kiddo, its me. Ole man downstairs that made you bargain with him. Remember??" 

It feels vaguely familiar, and she swallows dryly. If she focuses hard enough she can remember something of the sorts. Words. So she nods, feeling the bones in her neck and jaw ache. 

Her lungs rattle in her chest, and she sputters a little on a cough. A warmth encases her hand once again. 

"Gooooood," the boy who isn't the boy from school, purrs. Hes so sure of himself, and doesnt seem much of a boy with the way he carries himself. Its the first time anyone had ever given her so much attention, and it makes the heart monitor beat faster. "Well, I need you to uh...tell our bond that its okay for me to roam freely. I need to, I'm not a man that works too well at being kept. You know?" 

Dark eyes shine underneath the hospital lights, they are black and so alive. They look right at her. Into her. Ben? Yes that was his name at school. _Ben_.

She just wishes she can understand what he's talking about. Her mind is so fogged up, and shes so tired that she just takes in everything about him. The tiny moles scattered across his face. The crooked curve of his jaw that she had never noticed. He was beautiful, in an untamed sort of way, and maybe it meant a little more to her that he was sitting by her side, holding her hand.

No one else would have done that. No one. Tears burn at the back of her eyelids and she groans at the settling of pain. Its very much her _life_ for the first good thing to happen, and suddenly it just wants to leave her like everything else. 

"Excuse me sir, youre not suppose to be in here." A nurse, blue-eyed and young apears in the doorway with a clipboard in tow. 

His hand tightens around hers as he looks at the woman in the doorway and blinks owlishly. The nurse comes into the room, face pinched and goes to open her mouth once again when a tall woman steps into the room behind her. 

"Ben?" Her voice is soft, face red and puffy. "Oh Ben!!" 

His hand is gone, and he hisses underneath his breath.

"Ben, why are you in here? Do you know this girl? Oh my god." The woman is really blabbering now, tears trailing down her cheeks in a way that makes her look more angry. Maybe she _is_ angry. "This is truly a blessing in disguise. God sent. Just stay right there." 

* * *

The back of the hospital gown is open, and his ass is hanging out, and all he can think about is the pure shit he's just talked himself into. 

Of course, he'd have to go and possess a mama's boy. The woman in front of him, blabbering, scares him more than any purgatory ever has. It makes his skin crawl the more he sits there holding the girl's hand. 

The little shit knew this kid, he saw the recognition in her eyes, and it all had to get fucked up by the mom. The _fucking_ **_mom_**. 

"Wait!" He calls, confused as to why he's even doing this, even more, confused why no one is freaking out about an overdosed patient who has miraculously gained all his strength back within the hour. "She needs a place to stay. She's an orphan." He spits it out, hating the way the vocal cords ache, hating the way this body feels too awkward to control. 

Fucking teenagers. 

The woman blinks, her face open and raw before she smiles. 

After being forced back into the kid's room and hooked up to the machines, he gets slapped with the '_he needs to be emitted into a mental health facility_'. Thankfully _mom _somehow works it the right way and puts it out like it was one big fucking accident. Ben Solo swallowed a bunch of pills by accident.

The kid tried offing himself, clearly _no_ accident. But kylo latches on to the idea, nodding the body's head, and opting to tremble his lower lip the right way.

Just put the fucking kid on xanax, deaden him up so he can gain better control, and one can get the hell outta the creped hell hole where sick people go to die. The nurses leave after a few minutes of jabbing him with needles, and he is left with the woman beside the bed.

Shes a pretty brood, greying chestnut hair twirled up in intricate braids, she eyes him wolfishly all of a sudden and Kylo feels like she has caught onto the scheme of things. 

"Ben, how do you know that girl? Does she go to school with you?" His mood sours, of course he _doesn't_ know and he is too lazy to dig into this moron's head to even find out anything, so he just looks down trying to fake being shy and withdrawn. Ben seems like he'd be one of those guys; withdrawn, moody. It creeps him out how much the similarities remind him of himself back in the day.

"Yeah. She constantly comes to school with marks on her."

"Bruises?" The mom laps it up before she stands up, like she has heard enough. "I will work some strings, see if I can have the spare bedroom ready for her."

He watches her leave and feels something in the back of his throat, it's the feeling from the body he is possessing and it freaks him out for a moment because the kid is listening in. 

_She is the Mayor. _A thought swirls in his mind, a sort of recognition, it floats around for a moment before he leans back into the bed and rubs at his eyes.

"What the fuck did I get myself into." Kylo grumbles, tapping all of his fingers simultaneously against his thumbs. 

It takes a whopping few days too long for them to get released from the hospital.

He's walking down the hallway, feeling strange using human legs after a millennia or so, and he keeps watching the girl fumble around in front of him. _Rey Nobody_.

Little Rey, darned in one of Ben's oversized sweaters that falls down past her knees. His body is a lot bigger than he thought it would be, especially compared to her, but it's not bad or anything.

No, its _horrible. _He is fucking trapped in a body of the most awkward teenage boy child-man, and hes quite literally tethered by law to a ditzy little girl who has no fucking clue that she bargained with a demon to save her soul.

Its frustrating, and even though he feels a stiffy coming at the fact that they are nearing the front of the hospital to leave, he knows that it is going to take way too long to find a way out of this mess. 

People look at them, watching, as they leave out the front lobby. Maybe it's because he touches everything, the door, the hallway wall, and he plays it off as the side-effects of the medication they drugged him with. 

Rey doesnt look back at him and just watches as Leia, finally he knows the mom's name, talks about how much happier things will be. How it's going to help the family, and little ole Benny wont be so lonely. 

He slugs out of the hospital doors and blinks upwards. The sky is overcast and _lovely. _Maybe it will rain and flood, and he will feed off of the pure fear of modern civilization. 

"Ben?" Leia questions, standing by the open back door of a black suv, her eyebrows are raised as if she's surprised he is actually paying attention to their surroundings. He coughs, shrugging in his black hoodie, and looks to find Rey staring at him from the back seat. She looks so scared, her entire life had been flipped upside down, and now shes leaving with this strange mayor woman to be with this strange family.

The images of her mother flicker through his brain, and his jaw rolls before he stuffs himself in the backseat with her. Shit, shit, shit.

The tether warms at the close proximity, almost smug with his torture.

He hasnt been able to be near her since that day, all he could get was the feeling through the connection and the constant reassurance through Leia about the girl's progress. Apparently this sudden change in demeanor and infatuation with the strange girl has made the mother pause every plan and meeting. Maybe it's a big deal, maybe not. Frankly, he couldn't care either way. 

The moment he got the girl alone, they would talk, he just had to play it safe for now.


End file.
